


Springtime Prompts

by NaomiJameston



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Divorce, F/M, Mention of going blind, Post-Divorce, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slice of Life, check your dental insurance, squiddy squid, will warn when needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 131
Words: 13,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiJameston/pseuds/NaomiJameston
Summary: More 100 word drabbles, all centered around "spring" words. I'm trying to keep these as fluffy as possible, but some angst will inevitably slip through. I'll tag and warn, I promise.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Drabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742050
Comments: 492
Kudos: 202
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. Airy

Her dress was light enough to float in the gentle breeze that fluttered the leaves overhead. Her hair was not but the veil above it danced in joy with the blossoms plucked from her bouquet. Passersby halted their progress to watch the bride walk down the aisle in breathless anticipation.

And Severus felt much the same.

Hermione was stunning. Radiant. Her smile rivaled the sun which beamed down on them in perfect waves of spring warmth, and the waves behind Severus gave the perfect accompaniment to the strings that provided her beat.

They met, hands and lips, man and wife.


	2. Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mildly dark but hopeful. Canon-compliant violence.

Hermione walked the grounds of Hogwarts, passing ruined outbuildings and broken columns. The grass had been burned black in cursed patches, the remnants of evil spells and foul intentions. The castle refused to heal them. Refused to be healed at all. Students had been advised to stay away, to join one of the other magical schools until such time as Hogwarts was safe.

Hermione felt for the castle. Too much death, pain, fear. The castle was hurting.

She sat, resting her hand on the burned ground.

“I understand,” she said.

The ground stirred, magic tingled, and a blade of grass emerged.


	3. Allergies

Hermione Granger was dying. She just couldn’t shake it. The pounding head, the constant drip in her throat. She needed help.

“What do you mean- achoo! Sorry- that you’re out of allergy potions? How can you be- ahhhchoo! Pardon- out of stock? Entirely?!”

“I’m sorry, miss,” the apothecary said. “There was a run on them earlier.”

“Who?” she growled.

“A t-tall man, dark, and-” Hermione was already running.

\---

“ _ You _ ,” she growled as she slammed the door open.

“I knew you’d come crawling back to me,” Severus said.

“What do you want?”

He tossed a bottle of sweet relief.

“To talk.”


	4. Anew

“Severus, I’ve never doubted you before, but…” Hermione gestured helplessly at the overgrown gardens and dilapidated cottage on the land her husband had purchased for them. 

“We’ve seen worse,” he assured her, sliding scarred gloves onto his hands. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“The same place as my sense of humor,” she sneered. “This isn’t liveable. This is dead, Severus. This is-”

“Look, Hermione,” he said, clearing a space by her feet. A stone paver. And another. A third. A path. “This was loved by someone once.”

He plucked a thistle in bloom- her favorite weed. She smiled.

“You sap.”


	5. Apple Blossom

“Mummy, come look!” Hugo Weasley hollered, his pudgy legs carrying him quickly from his mother who was laden down with packages.

“Hugo, wait,” she yelled, but her son was on a mission. His finger pointed unwaveringly at the blossoming apple tree across the cobblestone street. Hermione watched in horror as he stepped into the path of an oncoming wagon. She screamed-

A hand plucked Hugo from the road. Severus Snape carried the squirming infant to Hermione, whose knees quaked.

“Your parcel, Mrs. Weasley.” He set Hugo down and stalked away before Hermione could thank him. Or tell him she was divorced.


	6. April Showers

“This sucks,” Rose grumbled to herself. The rain hadn’t stopped pouring in hours and the ditch in front was starting to flood. Any minute now, her parents would burst in and say-

“Rose, we need your help,” Hermione said as she tossed Rose’s slick raincoat and wellies at her. “Mrs. Wilson next door is starting to flood and-”

“I know, Mother,” Rose sighed, sliding off the windowsill. Hermione watched her quietly.

“Tell you what,” Hermione said. “After we get Mrs. Wilson out, you can use my wand to clear out the mud.”

Rose beamed and slammed her foot into the boot.


	7. Awaken

From the day he was born, Hugo Weasley-Snape had let the world know of his presence. He came into the world squalling, he woke his parents every morning with his screams, and he’d rarely been silent a moment from the instant he was awake until he finally fell asleep. He’d exhausted his birth father to the point that the man had left and his mother had been lost until his stepfather entered their lives with his calm and soothing words. 

Hugo looked up from the stage where his band performed to a raucous crowd, caught Severus’ eye.

“Thank you, Dad.”


	8. Baby Animals

“Can we keep him?” was a common refrain in their house. Every injured, pregnant, or needy animal in a twenty kilometer area seemed to know they’d be safe at the Snape house. They’d be nursed back to health and released, or found loving homes. No animal went hungry there, and no person for that matter.

At times, Hermoine despaired of her children and their love for animals, but after Severus had confessed that he’d never had a pet of his own, she ceased her protests. They founded a rescue center, free to all.

Hagrid was their first- and best- employee.


	9. Barbecue

“Now, Snape, I’m not sayin’ y’all don’t have good bar-be-que over there in Yee Oldie England.” J.W. Lloyd placed an extremely large hand on Severus’ shoulder in a roughly friendly manner, his oversize pinky ring digging into Severus’ flesh. The man’s accent was as offensive as his breath, dropping essential vowels and combining words needlessly. ‘Y’all,’ indeed. “I’m just sayin’ that this will be the best meal of your entire life.”

Later, he leaned back from the table with a groan.

“Well g’damn if you weren’t right,” Severus drawled. Across the table, Hermione sprayed Coke from her nose.


	10. Barefoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of past child neglect. 
> 
> I'm sorry. I really tried to keep the angst out but this one wouldn't go.

“You’re never barefoot,” Hermione mused one day as they leaned against each other. Their picnic rested on the blanket behind them as they watched the sunset, and they were the very picture of summer bliss.

But Hermione’s question drudged up memories. Times when he hadn’t been warm and safe and happy. Times when his feet had been so waterlogged the skin had peeled. Times when he’d had to run through the snow barefoot after his father had drunk their rent money again. Times when-

“I… don’t like the sensation,” he said. Hermione twined their fingers, somehow understanding without him explaining.


	11. Beautiful

Everywhere she went in Italy, she heard the word “bella.” 

“Come, belladonna, and try my wares!” “Bella, a feast awaits!” “Bella!” “Bella!” “Bella!”

It was enough to put her teeth on edge and each night she screamed into her pillow. Because while she knew they were calling her beautiful, she rejected the thought. She was covered in scars, a gift from another beauty.

Bellatrix had cackled as she’d carved Hermione’s flesh, and Voldemort had looked over her handiwork before kissing the woman’s hand and saying her name.

“Bella.”

But when Severus called her beautiful, Hermione started to believe.


	12. Birds

Those fucking birds were chirping again. Every morning from forty-two minutes before sunrise until one hour and eight minutes after, they would sing their stupid little songs about worms or-

“Isn’t that a beautiful sound,” his wife would comment every morning as she stretched, the sheet somehow always stopping just at the tip of her breasts. He always growled and grumbled and refused to agree, and sometimes she would lower the sheet until his annoyance was forgotten.

But today there was no Hermione to distract him. She was far away in Italy.

And Severus could flip off those damn birds.


	13. Blissful

“Hermione, what is this?” Severus asked. He was sprawled on his back, his chest still heaving. The cool breeze coming from the open window that led to the balcony overlooking a deep blue harbor. The flowering vine that twined along the railing shook in the wind and some pollen floated away. Its scent drifted into the room with the air that cooled his skin, and he could hear distant conversation far away from them. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione said, swiping an arm across her sweat-drenched brow. She rolled, pressing her naked length against Severus’. “But I call it bliss.”


	14. Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first two parter!

“I’m just saying,” Hermione growled, swiping her machete with strokes that were perhaps a bit stronger than strictly necessary, “stay out of my way, Snape.”

“I have no intention of getting in your way, Miss Granger,” Severus replied, looking annoyingly unaffected by the jungle heat despite being in his standard black robes. “I want to observe the bloom of the Goldenglow Orchid as much as you do.”

Hermione wanted to respond, but an engine roared nearby and cut her off. As they watched, four large men with guns entered the temple that housed the Orchid.

“Might I suggest a truce?”


	15. Blossom

“I can’t believe that worked,” Hermione crowed her triumph as she ran. Severus clutched the Orchid in its ornate vase closer to his chest.

“You do seem truly blessed with luck.”

They ran until the sun began to set.

“I don’t think they followed,” Hermione said. She turned to grin at Severus, but halted at the hot look in his eyes. He hooked her shirt, pulled her close, and kissed her hard.

He growled; she keened.

As he pulled back, Hermione arching to kiss him again, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

And disapparated.

With the Orchid.

“Snape!” Hermione shrieked. “You bastard!”


	16. Blue Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: possible infidelity

It was so unfair that the sky was blue today. Blue like a robin’s egg. Like a Patronus spell. Like his eyes…

No. Like  _ hers _ . 

Why weren’t her eyes purple? It would suit her.  _ Lavender _ . Merlin, even her name was pretty.  _ She _ was so pretty. No wonder Ron had thrown her over for Lavender. No one would want a Hermione when they could have a  _ Lavender _ instead. 

Maybe she should change her name. Something simple, easy to pronounce. Maybe another flower name. Lilac?

“Oh buck up, Granger. Weasley’s an arse.”

She caught sight of Severus’ robes as he stalked away.


	17. Born

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione as farmers AU?? I have no idea.

“So help me, Mabel, if you don’t birth this calf in the next two minutes, I’m going in,” Hermione grumbled under her breath. Mabel was unmoved by her threat, stamping her hooves and throwing her head in distress. Hermione had been afraid of this. Mabel had never calved before and there was a decent chance the calf was turned. 

And of course Severus had always been conspicuously absent during any of the bovine related training. 

Hermione sighed and reached for the long glove just as the calf slipped into the world with a bawl.

“Thank Merlin. And you too, Mabel.”


	18. Breeze

Normally Severus would have been charmed by the image of the wheatheads bending in the breeze like an undulating ocean. So similar to the waves crashing against the shore where he’d proposed to Hermione. But now he was hungover and those waves made his stomach flop.

"Do get up, Severus, honestly. This was only the first night of celebrating." Lucius swept into the room, looking fresh as a daisy. Severus wanted to kill him on sight.

"The  _ first _ ?"

"Of course! You have six left. A proper stag party."

Severus quietly pulled the covers over his head and prayed for death.


	19. Bright

“Brightest witch of her age, huh.” The man spit as though the words were distasteful in his mouth. “And what has that gotten you? Still snatched you right off the streets, I did. And none of your magic helped you, eh?”

Hermione sat quietly and nodded. “No, it certainly didn’t. But do you know what ‘bright’ means, Mr…?”

“Course I do! Means you learn shite.”

Hermione smiled and slid her legs together smoothly, watching his eyes. “Yes, indeed. May I show you what I’ve learned?”

He leered, leaned down.

She headbutted him and he fell with a thud, unconscious.

“That.”


	20. Bud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the multiple notifications, y'all! I'm going on vacation this next week and won't be around to upload these drabbles, so you're getting a week all at once. Sorry!
> 
> Warning: Smut

“Do you know why some refer to the clit as a ‘bud,’ dearest?” Hermione keened above him as his fingertips brushed across the swollen, sensitive center of her pleasure. Severus tutted.

“No, but you’re close. Shall I explain?” She writhed and he shook his head in amused exasperation. “Darling, I would rather not tie you up just yet, but if you’re not going to attend to your lessons, I will be forced into corporal punishment.”

“It is called the bud,” he continued, twisting into tighter and tighter circles until she screamed and thrashed, “because when done correctly, you bloom.”


	21. Bulb

“How did you get one?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. She reached out to touch the bulb in her colleague’s hand, then drew it back. Severus chuckled.

“Some rather impressive negotiations, of course. You said you wanted one.”

“Well yes, of course, but Severus… this is…” She wet suddenly dry lips, missing the way Severus’ eyes dilated. “What did you bargain?”

“Nothing I couldn’t afford to lose.” He lifted Hermione’s hand to place it on the bulb. “I am willing to negotiate its release to you, as well.”

“Your price?”

“Nothing you can’t afford to lose.”


	22. Bunnies

“Mum, look!! Bun buns!” Hugo shrieked from his pushchair. His pudgy finger pointed to a low hill nearby where a family of rabbits nibbled on the grass. It was an idyllic scene, but Hermione couldn’t help herself.

“Not bun buns, Hugo. Those are rabbits. Can you say ‘rabbit’?”

He crossed his arms and pouted. “Bun. Bun.”

“Rabbit.”

He shook his head, screeching, “Bun bun!!”

“Are you all right?” Severus asked, returning from the washroom with Rose holding his hand. Hugo shrieked, waving his hands.

“I’m just trying to get him to say-”

“Aww, bunnies!” Rose shouted.

“Bunnies!” Hugo shouted triumphantly.


	23. Butterfly

Of all the possible creatures in the world for her animagus form to take, she couldn’t possibly have considered this one less. It was too small- she couldn’t move quickly. Too hard to control- the slightest breeze tipped her over. Too obvious- she couldn’t possibly spy in this form! And what was the point of being an Animagus in the Order if her form wasn’t useful?

She landed on the couch, her overlarge, useless wings drooping around her. But gentle hands scooped her up.

“A  _ morpho peleides _ !” Severus exclaimed, his face bright with joy. “You’re the most beautiful butterfly, Hermione.”


	24. Buzzing

“When you suggested a vacation somewhere tropical, I thought it would be relaxing,” Severus grumbled from under the pillow he’d wrapped around his face. A second pillow blocked one ear, and a third- one he’d stolen from Hermione- blocked the other.

But the pillows were useless against the buzzing and squawking and chittering of thousands of different animals in the rainforest outside. They never slept and neither could he.

His wife chuckled from somewhere above him and suddenly a warm mouth engulfed him whole. He groaned, shuddered, moaned, and added his own cries to the night, no longer bothered.


	25. Camping

“That was the most fucked up piece of cinematography I have ever seen. Good lord, why did I agree to let you take me?” Severus Snape shook his head slowly, his skin paler than usual and a thin sheen of sweat along his brow. The departing crowd flowed around them, chattering happily about the horror film they’d just seen.

“We are not  _ ever _ going camping,” Severus continued. By his side, Hermione tried to hide her amusement.

“Never ever?” she asked innocently, casually sliding her phone out of her pocket.

“Not ever.”

“It worked,” she texted Harry. “Thanks for the idea.”


	26. Caterpillar

“Hermione, I’m begging you,” Neville said, his robes falling off his shoulders and his shirt untucking as he shuffled the myriads of papers in his hands. They spilled onto Hermione’s desk.

“I’m not saying no, Neville,” she said, sliding a map of Peru away. “But I have to give everyone an opportunity. There’s only enough in the budget for one trip this year-”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Luna spoke as she poked her head in, “but I’m going to Peru, too. To study the Spiky-Head Caterpillar.”

Neville’s eyes widened.

“I’m studying Dreaded Whackweed.”

“Their favorite food!”

“Uh, new proposal, Hermione.”


	27. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I'm back from vacation with plenty of drabbles ready for you. How was your week?

The gardens dripped with fairy lights, both Muggle and magic. The trees were festooned with lanterns and bright lengths of cloth. The air was perfumed with the scent of thousands of flowers, herbs, and damp earth.

Children chased each other along the paths, their parents either following closely or watching indulgently from the tables laden with food.

Conversation flowed around them, memories bright with nostalgia. Hermione watched from her secluded spot in a far corner of the garden, known only to her and the man beside her.

Severus tapped their champagne flutes together.

“Happy fifty years, Hermione.”

She smiled back. “I love us.”


	28. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: referenced homicide, angst

“Why do things have to change, Mummy?” 

Hermione paused in her chopping, her knife poised ready over the myriad of vegetables she was prepping for their supper. Unbidden, her gaze wandered over to the far wall where a newspaper clipping was framed and under the strongest “Notice Me Not” spell she could cast.

“Boy Who Lived found dead. Ron Weasley arrested. Granger fled.”

Hermione blinked back sudden tears.

“Change is inevitable,” she finally whispered. “But it is necessary for growth and renewal.”

Her daughter nodded, her brown hair fluttering over brilliant green eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“You were worth it.”


	29. Cheerful

“Why are you so…” the girl with the long blonde hair and grey eyes sneered, and her words dripped with disdain, “ _ cheerful _ ?”

The object of her attention was immune to her opinions and smiled easily.

“I just am,” Hugo Snape replied with a grin. “It’s a beautiful day. Why shouldn’t I be happy about it?”

Cassiopeia Malfoy’s lip lifted of its own accord. “You’re weird.”

He shrugged. “Who is weirder, he who is happy or she who is not?”

At the Head table, the Professors Snape smothered their chuckles in their napkins, while Headmistress Mcgonagall guffawed. 

“Reminds me of someone.”


	30. Cherry Blossom

The blossoms fluttering in the breeze and flowing down the creek made a beautiful backdrop to the colorful people observing them. Short, tall, thin, fat- everyone smiled when the wind played in the trees. Severus smiled to see them happy, not noticing when a whole blossom landed on his hair.

“Ah, someone is thinking of you,” a tiny woman said at his elbow. She seemed to be made of layers of wrinkles and laugh lines and wisdom.

“Do they think favorably of me, crone?” he asked with a bow.

She cackled. “When are you asking her?”

He patted his pocket.

“Today.”


	31. Chirp

Rose’s eyes were wide as she curled around the large box. The chicks within chirped in confusion and distress at every bump Severus’ old truck took, but Rose whispered to them in comfort. The girl was half in love with them already.

Severus didn’t have the heart to tell her the chicks weren’t pets. They were ingredients.

Feathers for potions of flight. The bones for broth. The innards for Crookshanks. The rest for the humans. 

But as he watched his daughter stroke the soft fluff of a particularly brave chick, he held his tongue. Let the innocent enjoy their bliss.


	32. Clean

Her mother had always declared the first day of spring as the best day to clean the entire house, top to bottom, and she would never listen to arguments against it. Their house was already clean. It was always cold or rainy or windy or- Nope. They cleaned.

When Hermione moved out, she swore to never fall victim to that trap. But as the years passed, she found herself longing for the simplicity of childhood.

So, on the first day of spring, she loaded herself down with supplies and cleaned an already clean house on a cold, rainy, blustery day.


	33. Colorful

“Do I…” Severus started but his wife cut him off with an irritated sweep of her hand.

“No, you do not. And I do not want to explain why I am covered in fifteen layers of reptilian saliva in various colors. What I want is to take the longest shower our water heater allows, drown myself in ice cream, and fall asleep to you telling me about your significantly less dramatic day.”

Hermione threw her boots with a snarl, leaving streaks of purple, green, and red. She stomped to the bathroom, slamming the door.

“...I like it, actually,” Severus mused.


	34. Cloudless

“But Mum, how can we watch the clouds if there aren’t any?” a tiny child asked. Hermione placed her finger in her book to mark her place and adjusted her sunglasses so that she could watch them.

The mother gave the son a look Hermione knew well- overworked, exasperated, at wit’s end, and holding herself together for the sake of the child.

“I’m sorry, Timmy, but I don’t control the weather. We’ll come back-”

“Ah, but I  _ do _ control it,” Hermione whispered and tapped the wand at her side. Clouds galloped on magical winds, leaving the pair breathless with wonder.


	35. Colors

“All right, Hugo- what color is this?” Hermione held up a purple star but while Hugo was very interested in pulling it from her grasp, he refused to speak. Not a whisper, not a babble, nothing. Tears pricked at her eyes but she soldiered on. “How about this red circle? Can you say ‘red’?”

Severus watched her from their bedroom across the hall. Soon enough the tears would flow and both Hugo and Hermione would need comforting; he’d be there for them both.

And maybe he could convince Hermione that being silent is not the worse thing for a baby.


	36. Cookout

“Monica and Wendell invited us over for a cookout,” Hermione said as she came in with the mail. Severus looked up from feeding Rose in her highchair.

“What’s that?”

“I think it’s just grilling? Wendell tried to explain but I honestly didn’t understand how it’s any different than a barbecue, but he insisted.”

“Barbie!” Rose shouted, flailing her arms and splashing her father with mushed peas. Hermione hid her snicker by sorting through the mail.

“Did you tell them we agree?” Severus asked.

“Not without talking to you first-”

“Hermione.” He caught her eye. “We can always see your parents.”


	37. Crisp

“I posit that there is nothing better in the entire world than crisp, clean sheets.”

Curled on her side with her head resting on his shoulder, Hermione sighed. “I would argue that there are many things more wonderful-”

“Of course you would,” Severus snickered, rubbing a hand on her gravid belly.

“But I am far too comfortable to do so right now.”

Severus chuckled and pressed a kiss to her wild curls. “It’s an odd victory, but I’ll take it.”

He swept his hand along her hair until she slept, their child kicking occasionally.

The luckiest man in the world.


	38. Daffodils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm... accidental Rose/Neville?

“Daffodils are the best!” one boy shouted, his face purple with rage and his hands shaking. In front of him, a girl the same age clenched her fists and shouted right back.

“Violets are!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yes they are!”

“Children,” Rose Snape glanced up from the far end of the greenhouse where she was showing two first years the best way to repot Singing Daffodils. “There’s no need to quarrel. All flowers are equally wonderful.”

“Indeed,” Professor Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor House and her apprenticeship master, replied with a wink. “But I’m rather partial to roses myself.”


	39. Daisy

Daisy stared up at the castle- her home for the next few months- and felt like crying. She’d never been away from her family before. Her father had cried huge, blubbery tears and her grandfather had looked thunderous at her leaving. And her grandmother-

“Hello!” a cheerful voice behind her said. Daisy turned to see a dark-haired girl smiling at her. “I’m Rose Snape. Who are you?”

“I’m Daisy. Daisy Dudley.”

Rose nodded. “I like you. Want to be friends? My mum said she met her best friends on the first day of Hogwarts.”

Daisy grinned. “I like you, too.”


	40. Daylight

The sun peeked above the high mountains surrounding Hogwarts, sending rays of brilliant light high and far and wide. Birds greeted the morning with vigor and the nighttime animals yawned on the way to their burrows. Life in the castle began to stir as well, fires lighting themselves to chase away the cold of the evening.

It was an idyllic morning, but two particular people were not aware of it.

They were twined together in erotic bliss, far too absorbed in each other to be aware of the night’s passing.

Two rings caught the sun as their hands clasped.


	41. Drizzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ron/Hermione with maybe a hint of SSHG to come?

“It’s just a drizzle, Hermione. Honestly.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I am deeply aware, Ronald. And do you know what will happen if this hair so much as senses humidity? I look like a goddamned poodle.”

Ron rolled his eyes in response. “And so what? It’s not like you can tame it on the best days anyway. Who cares what you look like?”

“Well, I would hope that  _ you _ do.”

Severus quietly flipped the Prophet closed, it’s front cover emblazoned, “Granger and Weasley to Wed!” If what he saw was any indication, he doubted they’d get to the aisle.

Good.


	42. Dust Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was working on a Cowboy!Snape fic for a friend, which inspired this drabble. :)

The man was impossibly attractive. Every movement he made held a grace and fluidity that one couldn’t help but admire. He was strong and carried the muscles to prove it, but he was gentle when he held her hand. And kind. And courteous. And everything a bright, well brought up, proper woman of Hermione’s status and position could want.

Except for the fact that he was a cowboy of ill repute, no name, and less wealth. The scandal would be monumental. She’d be ruined.

But she found herself unable to care overmuch.

She had fallen and would be his.


	43. Earth

She clasped the handful of dirt as though it contained diamonds. Or rubies. Maybe pearls.

But she’d sold those and more. She’d given up everything she’d had. Her family had had. She’d given up her very life and her name.

Everything but her love.

Now she held dirt from their farm deep in the Argentinian mountains and it was more precious to her than anything she’d left behind.

Severus watched her with apprehension.

“Do you like it?”

Hermione turned to him with a smile brighter than the sun and tears that sparkled with diamonds.

“Where do we start?”


	44. Eggs

“Rose, what are you doing?” Severus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. His daughter froze in the act of putting a dozen eggs in the trolley.

“Mum said that once Merchick and Sharkeyhen stop laying, we’re going to eat them. And I noticed they didn’t lay any eggs yesterday, and-”

Severus held back a laugh with heroic effort. “Rose, honey, calm down. We’re not going to eat your chickens.”

“But Mum said-”

“Mum cares as much about those birds as you do, and besides-” he kneeled down to look his daughter in the face- “chickens don’t lay during winter.”


	45. Emerge

Hermione loved this time of year. Winter was old and tired and being washed away in the onslaught of warm days, but spring hadn’t quite sprung. Buds were on every tree branch and tiny mounds of dirt betrayed the growing leaves about to emerge. But it was still cold and dark and quiet.

But then the next day, all was green. Birds flew and sang glorious tribute to the spring. Fluffy white clouds chased each other across the sky. 

But for now, all was quiet and still.

And she had an appointment with a good book and a warm fire.


	46. Energy

Hermione was 5 years old when she realized that only she could see the energy swirling around people- their aura, she found out later. Her mother was a calm, medium blue. Nothing seemed to ruffle her surface at all, but there were several dark spots scattered throughout. Her father had them, too, in his slightly more active olive green. Old pain, not spoken of.

Ron was a chaotic swirl of colors- never settling on one for long. Harry was just as active, but when she met him, he was more than half dark.

And Severus?

He was the sun.


	47. Fair

“A token from the beautiful young lady, to aid me in my quest to vanquish the foul Lord Ademar?” someone called. Hermione turned and had to take a step back at the sudden appearance of man and horse in her direct line of sight. The young man lowered his lance to accept the ribbon Hermione had been given at the ticket stand and whispered, “I’ll also take your number, my lady.”

By her side, Severus growled.

“Ah, but I see you have already been vanquished! Woe am I!” He galloped off with a wink.

“I love renaissance festivals.”

“...You would.”


	48. Fertile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: pregnancy

Hermione stared at the stick in her hand, disbelieving. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, squinted, but the result was the same: two lines. Pregnant.

“I’m going to go plow the far field,” Severus spoke from the base of the stairs.

“You certainly did,” Hermione whispered to herself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, love.” She snickered, hysteria bubbling in her throat. “Do you- do you think it’s fertile enough to plant?”

Severus poked his head in. “I suppose so, yes? I’ve got plenty of potent seed.”

Hermione guffawed. “That you do!”

“What in-?” Then Severus saw the test. “Oh. So I do.”


	49. Field

“Whatcha doing, Rosie?” Rose opened her eyes to see her younger brother standing over her, a sweet in his mouth and confusion on his face.

“I’m enjoying the spring air, Hu. I’m trying to become one with the earth and return to my roots.” She waved her hand airily. “It’s a magic thing. You’re too young to understand yet.”

He popped the sweet out. “So you’re not hiding from Mum since you washed her special white robe with your new red sweater?”

“I most certainly am not,” she declared, cheeks flushing. “But, erm, maybe don’t tell her where I am?”


	50. Floral

A new florist had opened just two blocks down from her tiny house, and the entire town was agog over the mysterious owner. The man was tall and dark and had a way with his hands that caused umpteen amounts of swooning.  
But Hermione was above such things, of course. She’d never felt the tiniest amount of desire for anyone. Although… she was curious about the bouquets the man made. And her gardens could provide flowers for his shop-  
When she saw him, lust sunk its teeth and shook her hard.   
“Severus Snape,” he said, clasping her hand.  
She gulped. 


	51. Flourish

Lucius Malfoy was incredibly predictable, Hermione mused, tapping the recently delivered missive covered in flourishes and a euphemistically large wax seal. Since Hermione had gotten divorced several months ago, the man had been relentless in his pursuit of her, and no amount of refusal had deterred him.

“Another one?” her lover asked, sliding his nude body along her own. Severus plucked the letter from her hands. “Would you mind if I took care of this?”

“Be gentle,” she replied. “He has resources that-”

“I will.” He scribbled a note that vanished.

“What did you say?”

“That you taste like heaven.”


	52. Flower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two versions today. The first is the fluffier rewrite; I don't like it as much, but the other version just made me too sad. The second version is the original, written in one shot along with 30 or so others. Honestly, I think it's better, but I just wasn't feeling it last night. Sorry!
> 
> Special thanks to my friends at the Hearts&Cauldrons discord server for the hand-holding and plot fixing! <3

Version 1:

“Symbols are everywhere,” her mother liked to say. Rose was less convinced, but… maybe she had a point. Rose watched her father mix together a pomegranate dressing while her mom washed nasturtium leaves. A warm wind came through the open window and brought the scent of orange blossom. She breathed deeply, her heart and lungs filling with love.

Beside her, Hugo snorted. “You know it's all made up, right? You can say anything and make it a symbol. Like, I could say blackthorn means love and you can't say I'm wrong.”

“It means overcoming difficulties, dingus. Just like they did.”

Version 2:

“It’s peaceful here, Mum. There are flowers everywhere, and a little pond down the way. Severus is there with the kids now. They didn’t… Hugo still doesn’t really understand. He thinks I can just wave my wand and bring you back and-” Hermione took a shuddering breath. “Anyway. I love you, Mum. We’ll talk soon.”

She stood, brushing the grass and crushed flowers from her funeral skirt. She didn’t notice her father coming up behind her until he clasped her shoulder.

“Monica thought of you as a daughter,” Wendell said. And Hermione cried for the loss of both her mothers.


	53. Fluffy

_ Fluffy _ was a word that Hermione had come to loathe.  _ Fluffy  _ was how someone described a fat person they liked enough to befriend but not enough to fuck.  _ Fluffy _ was the kindest, most flattering word Ronald had ever said about her hair.  _ Fluffy _ was the name of her landlord’s terror of a Bichon Frise. 

But when Severus said the word, he held the same loathing in his voice that she felt. When he ran his hands along her curves and in her hair, she felt wanted. 

And when he growled distinctly  _ un-fluffy _ words at the dog, she damn near proposed.


	54. Fragrant

“Yes, it certainly is… fragrant,” Hermione said with a grimace. Lavender clapped her hands and squealed.

“I knew you’d like it! I ordered a case for you, too!” She twirled her wand and a huge box appeared in front of Hermione, making the table groan and bend. “We can be fragrance twinsies!”

“Well, I- erm…”

“You should try it a few more times and see how the bases play with your skin. The overtone is already turning sour.” Severus spoke from behind her, flicking his wrist and shrinking the box. “But these will be an excellent base for caustic potions.”


	55. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains former Ron/Hermione

The air felt cleaner, despite their being in downtown London. The sky was brighter, the wind felt cheerful as it played in her hair, and she swore she saw ducklings waddling nearby. Years of doubt and shame and restlessness shed off her with every step until she nearly danced at the lightness. She could breathe again! She could dance! She could sing!

Behind her, Ronald Weasley watched with a wry smile. He caught Hermione’s hand to spin her suddenly and dipped her with a laugh.

“If I’d known it would make you so happy, I’d have divorced you years ago.”


	56. Fresh

“Is there anything in the world more soothing than freshly cut grass?” Hermione asked. She sniffed appreciatively as the breeze carried her favorite scent through the open window.

“Fresh coffee?” Severus said at the table, lifting his mug in salute.

“That new book smell? It could be described as ‘fresh,’” Rose said, flipping a page in her newest novel idly.

“I like the smell when I cross the wires wrong and they spark,” Hugo said as he rummaged in yet another box of electronics. Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “Clears the sinuses, too. It’s refreshing.”

“You worry me, son.”


	57. Frog

Trevor was an old toad, even by human standards. He’d been fully grown when he was taken in by the kindly Frank Longbottom, who had nursed him back to health and released him into the garden. He’d watched the family since then, through the first war, young Neville’s childhood, and the second war.

Neville was still young but his aura was mature. He was victorious and the Dark Lord defeated. He was a man now. And he didn’t need his old toad anymore.

So under the cover of that evening’s darkness, Regulus Black stood and walked away, a free man.


	58. Frolic

“You’ve never frolicked?” Hermione asked him with some incredulity. The shrieks of their children carried on the spring breeze from the base of the short hill the two had rolled down. They stumbled back up, breathless with laughter. Severus watched them fondly but with no little confusion.

“Is that frolicking? Rolling down a hill and getting covered in grass?” he asked. 

“It’s one of many ways. Any enjoyable, unscheduled time with those you love can be considered a frolic.”

He leaned back, tucking his wife under his arm before she could suggest joining them..

“I’m happy to frolic with you right here.”


	59. Galoshes

“But Mum! No one else will be wearing galoshes,” Hugo whined, his eyes wide and filled with the alligator tears of pre-teenhood. Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Hugo Sebastian Snape-”

“But Mum!! They’re… they’re…  _ old _ .” His lip lifted in a sneer that would make his father proud, but Severus was very carefully staying hidden in the kitchen.

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re too good for them, is that it? Let me tell you something, young man-”

Twenty minutes later, Hugo left the house, holding the hated galoshes. His best friend snickered.

“Lost again?”

“Shut up, arsehole.”


	60. Garden

“A well-maintained garden is a sign of class and good breeding,” Alison Harington said airily to her best friend, Miss Constance Livingston. 

“Yes, I quite agree,” she said with a nod. “It would never do to have an unkempt garden. It might lead one’s reputation to ruin.”

Hermione, crouched in the unkempt garden behind them, called out, “You are welcome to harvest your own herbs should you find mine dissatisfying.”

“Everyone knows you are exempt, Hermione dear. Witches have no reputations to uphold.”

“But I do have a vast array of poisons.” She smiled, lifting a large basket. “Pleasant day.”


	61. Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied past abuse, pregnancy

His hands were always so gentle. Whether they cupped her face, the kitten they’d found on the road, or set an ingredient down to be chopped, they were unfailingly gentle. He’d admitted not long after their wedding that his hands scared him. He’d held them up to look at them, but he was not seeing his own scarred flesh, covered in healed wounds from years of potions making. 

No, he was seeing his father’s hands. He was seeing the damage those hands had caused. Feeling-

Hermione had taken his hand and pressed it to her gravid belly.

“You’re not him.”


	62. Glade

“Never go into the woods,” Hermione had been told numerous times in her youth. “Dark things are in the woods. Fae dance in the glades. They’ll steal you away and you’ll never come back.”

“God, but I hope so,” she muttered. Her dress caught on a thorn at the edge of the glade and she tugged at it angrily.

“Need help, miss?” a voice asked and a tall, dark stranger with impossibly angular features stepped from the shadows. “Humans shouldn’t be here.”

“There’s nowhere else for me.”

With a sympathetic smile, he guided her into the glade and she was gone. 


	63. Glow

She really was the most stunning creature, Severus thought to himself. His beautiful wife has finally fallen asleep, having worn him ragged with her questions and ideas and thoughts about their potential experiments until he’d threatened to drug her for some silence. She’d closed her mouth for two blissful minutes before asking if he had considered some tiny miniscule detail that yes, of course he had. He’d rolled on top of her and sealed her mouth with his own.

But even in sleep, her enthusiasm radiated and she damn near glowed. He couldn’t help but be ruefully awestruck at her.


	64. Grass

Hermione breathed deeply, filling her lungs with every iota of her favorite scent she could shove in. She released it in a whoosh before repeating the process with gusto.

“Is there anything more wonderful than freshly cut grass?” she asked, throwing her arms wide and her head back in her joy.

Her husband looked up blearily from his Benadryl-induced haze. He was surrounded by boxes of tissues, most of them empty and their used contents resembling a mountain range. Hot water steamed at his elbow and an open bottle of eye drops teetered on the edge of the table.

“Breathing?”


	65. Grass Stains

She could make the stain removing solution in her sleep now. Two parts water to one part vinegar, soak the stained clothing for 15 minutes, then dab with a cloth. Repeat as needed; use the special enzyme powder if the stain was particularly stuck on.

She never complained about the extra work, at least not while the children could hear her. Certainly she would have preferred that they didn’t bring home half the grass in the county on their clothes, but…

Well, after the War and the many times she was certain she wouldn’t survive, grass stains didn’t bother her.


	66. Green

He stared at his children, for once completely speechless. His wife beside him was no better but the shaking of her shoulders told him that she would burst soon. Whether into tears or laughter, he didn’t know.

“...Why?” he finally asked. Rose and Hugo shared a look, then Rose explained in the slow voice used solely to explain the obvious to adults.

“It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, Da. So we made green pancakes, green hashbrowns, and green eggs.”

He swept a hand down his face. “And… your green skin?”

Rose barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

“It’s. Saint. Patrick’s. Day.”


	67. Growth

It certainly hadn’t been easy, but watching the sign be lifted into place over his apothecary shop brought such a swelling of pride to his chest that he almost teared up.

Fifteen years. It had taken fifteen Merlin-cursed years before his reputation had been salvaged enough to gain his business license and purchase a prime spot in Diagon Alley. Even with Potter’s loud support, the vouching from the Weasley twins, and the ring he’d put on Hermione’s finger… fifteen years.

Ah well, he thought to himself. Growth was growth, no matter the time involved. Now it was time to thrive.


	68. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time she = me. I love my writers' group so much, I can't even begin to describe.

She stared at the screen, completely perplexed. She’d joined a writing group to help rattle a few things loose in her brain- the validation she received was worth it, let alone the advice and camaraderie. And every day they shared prompt words. Normally she flew through them- drabbles were short, after all.

But today’s? Today’s stumped her.

“Happiness.”

The cursor blinked, mocking her with its quiet judgement. Blink. Blink.  **_Blink._ **

Her children shrieked downstairs and her husband’s laughter floated up. She closed her laptop quietly.

If she couldn’t write about happiness, maybe she could go experience it instead.


	69. Harmony

“Miss Hermione Granger- Order of Merlin, First Class- was seen on the arm of a mysterious, dark-haired man last night. The two kept to the shadows but this author saw the passion between them as they entered Miss Granger’s apartment. This humble author can only surmise that Miss Granger is having an illicit relationship with one Harry Potter, and this author would humbly suggest the combined name “Harmony” to describe the lovebirds. What better symbol for our recovering community?”

Hermione tossed the newspaper aside with a laugh, caressing Severus’ hair as he slept.

“So close but so far,” she said.


	70. Hatching

“Mummy! Mummy, the egg is rocking!” Hugo shouted, pointing a pudgy finger at the incubator Hermione had set up on the counter a few weeks ago. He’d been fascinated with the eggs ever since Hermione had discovered their chickens had been hiding a nest and brought the poor things in. The hens had been more interested in eating the eggs than brooding them, and her mother’s heart couldn’t stand to let them die.

She patted Hugo’s head with a smile. As they watched, a beak broke through a shell. Another egg wiggled.

“Pick some names, Hugo. We’ve got a lot!”


	71. Heat Up

“I thought spring was supposed to be barely more tolerable than winter?” Hermione whined, fanning herself. It seemed sweat clung to her every pore and each movement only made the air seem hotter. Her curls drooped and the pins popped out more than usual from the sweat-slick strands.

Beside her, Severus raised an elegant eyebrow. He was, as always, clad head to foot in black robes, looking utterly delicious. And cool. 

“How?” she panted. He snorted out a laugh.

“Cooling charms on every seam. You might consider some.” He leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “Or don’t, and suffer  _ quietly _ .”


	72. Hike

The view was stunning. All reds and oranges and pinks as the sun crested the edge of the horizon and played along the underside of the clouds. Severus wished not for the first time that he was an artist and could capture the play of color and light, or an author and could describe the brilliant tableau. He breathed deeply and hummed in satisfaction.

Hermione was less enthralled and threw herself to the ground with a huff.

“How? How are you so  _ fit _ ?” she panted. Severus laughed.

“Two decades at Hogwarts. I could climb Everest now without breaking a sweat.”


	73. Hoe

“ _ What _ did you call me?!” Lavender Brown shrieked, her blonde curls flying and her face distorted with a snarl. Hermione regarded her cooly, her eyebrow rising.

“I said, ‘could you please hand me that hoe.’ Whether or not you heard a comma is none of my concern.”

The other gardeners in their club- Hannah Abbot, the Patil sisters, and Neville Longbottom- snickered. Lavender glared at them all before throwing her gloves to the ground and stalking away. Parvati followed her, trying to smooth down her smile. Hermione sneered.

“ _ Were _ you calling her a hoe?” Neville asked.

“...If the shoe fits.”


	74. Insects

It was inevitable, Hermione supposed, that once Hugo realized his sister’s phobia of bugs that he would become obsessed with them. What she hadn’t considered is that the typical sibling teasing would turn into a passion that would lead to a career that would land her son in the enviable position he held now- Head Curator at the Nature and Science Museum.

He stood at the podium, gesturing at the screen behind him and extolling the virtues of a new species of beetle, which he’d discovered recently in Panama.

Hermione fought back tears of pride.

And a shudder of revulsion.


	75. Invigorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for disappearing, y'all. Life got a bit rough here for a while and my mental health took a serious hit. But I'm back now and hopefully won't go through my backlog of drabbles too quickly. :) I rewrote this one so I'll include both versions. I missed you!!

The wind whipped their hair wildly as they stood on the cliff edge. Gulls called and starlings dove into the grasses. A rabbit gamboled nearby. Hermione smiled and breathed deeply of the cool sea air. Severus’s arm tightened around her and pulled her closer into his side.

“Should we interfere?” he asked, gesturing to their teenagers down below who were involved in some game that involved war cries and near drownings. Barely a moment had passed before Rose shrieked and launched a hill of sand at her brother, who ran off screaming. The animated sand gave chase, Rose cackling.

“Nope.” 

The original version:

“You are  _ far _ too chipper this morning,” Severus muttered into his coffee. Hermione grinned brightly, flipping through her myriad stacks of notebooks. Their children watched her with a mixture of awe and terror as she passed out assignments.

“Hugo, you’ll tackle the bathrooms. Rose, I want all of the laundry hung up before noon. Speed it with magic if you must. And Severus, you’ll-”

“Be in my lab and I’ll thank you to leave your spring cleaning out of it.”

She huffed an exasperated laugh. “I find it invigorating.”

“If it’s invigoration you’re after…”

She winked. “No distractions this time.”


	76. Kite

“I truly don’t understand this… exercise,” Severus said with a dubious glance at the box full of string and thin paper. “It seems as though it would rip immediately.”

“It might,” Hermione said with a shrug, “but I’m sure we can handle that. And besides, it’s fun.”

Before Severus could respond cuttingly, Hugo and Rose ran over, nearly bouncing in their excitement.

“Is it ready? Can we do it?!”

Hermione handed the string to Rose and helped Hugo run with the kite. The wind picked it up immediately, to raucous cheers from them all.

Severus couldn’t fight back his smile.


	77. Ladybug

“Mum? Amy says they’re called ladybugs, but she’s wrong, right?” Rose shouted from her bedroom. Hermione poked her head through the door to wave at the screen where Rose’s American friend Amy was displayed.

“She’s not wrong-”

“What?!” Rose shrieked and Amy cackled, tiny lightning bolts sparking around her in her delight.

Hermione raised her hands to forestall the argument. “But neither are you, Rose. They’re called ladybirds here.”

“But, Mrs Snape,” Amy said, her Texan accent drawling even more than usual, “ladybugs aren’t birds?”

“Don’t get her started,” Rose rolled her eyes, “she’ll never stop. She’s worse than Dad!”


	78. Lamb

Hugo was thinking hard, his tiny hand buried in the soft curls of the sleeping lamb in his lap. Hermione watched him quietly, her heart full at the sight of her young son exploring the world. She could almost see the gears turning in his head as he learned.

He patted the lamb again, running his fingers through its mohair methodically. He looked at the lamb’s mother next to him and patted her as well.

“Mummy?” he asked, and Hermione crouched down in front of him. But before she could lift him, he patted her hair.

“Ah!” he shouted. “Same!”


	79. Light

She loved to fly now. The freedom it afforded her, the instant communication between her hands and the broom… She felt so light! She looked back at herself- how scared she’d been, with her feet firmly on the ground and a grimace on her face. But then… well. Then her husband had helped her understand what she was missing.

And now she couldn’t get enough. Just put a broom between her legs and she was off!

Beside her, Severus chuckled.

“When will you be willing to fly more than two feet off the ground?”

“When the ground rises two feet.”


	80. Lively

The party was raging below. Wine flowed like water, and harder spirits too. The mood hadn’t changed yet, but he knew it would. He knew it in the same way that he knew his name. All parties ended with fights, coupling, and someone finding him for both. He wasn’t interested anymore.

No, Severus was much happier hiding out here on the roof and-

Something scraped on the windowsill as she stepped out and settled by him.

“It certainly is… lively,” Hermione said. He nodded without speaking. She passed him a cigarette, lighting hers as well.

“This is more like it.”


	81. Lush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ties back to Glade, chapter 62. :)

The forest grass was thick and lush below her, and she curled her toes in delight. The birds were singing madly overhead and small creatures chased each other through underbrush and branches. Hermione felt a song welling up within her. She didn’t know what those humans were complaining about. The glen wasn’t anything to fear…

No, wait. She was still human. Yes, that’s right. She laughed to herself. Her fellow humans were just silly. She smiled fanged teeth and pointed ears twitched.

Her lover- tall, dark, and as fae as the day she met him- led another human girl in.


	82. Meadow

The meadow was nearly overgrown, its edges being eaten slowly by the encroaching wood. Dark things lingered at the edge and glowing eyes peered from the dark. Creatures chittered in the trees and branches shifted beneath them.

But Rose Snape was not afraid of man or beast or any creature-

“Except spiders,” Hugo helpfully reminded her. Rose glared.

“Do you want me to continue the story or not?” she asked with exasperation.

Hugo considered carefully before nodding. “Tell me more about the scary things!”

Rose rolled her eyes. “A low growl echoed in the underbrush, but our heroine wasn’t scared…”


	83. Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by that ice deer thread on tumblr. My original plan was to have the narrator be Severus but there was too much world-building that would have to happen. And as much as I love Luna, she didn't feel quite right, either. But her sons? Perfect!
> 
> The thread in question: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d7/1e/dc/d71edc9aa80a971376bef9af24f9280d.jpg

It was time. He could feel it in his bones, the same way as he could feel the blood pumping in his veins. It was time to trek north to find the Ice Deer.

Some said they didn’t exist and even his twin rolled his eyes, but Lorcan Scamander knew better. Someone had to save the deer and that someone was him.

His mother had already packed a bag for him. It was filled with the most random objects but somehow she always knew what he would need. The moose jerky had come in handy last year.

It was time.


	84. Mow

“On three,” Rose said, holding up a fist. Across from her, Hugo rose his own fist with a determined expression. He nodded.

“One, two-” Rose threw her hand out flat and covered Hugo’s fist.

“No fair! You didn’t say three,” Hugo complained. “You cheated!”

“All’s fair in love and war, dear brother,” she said with all the self-assurance a twelve-year-old can possess. “You’d have done the same thing.”

“Would not!” ten-year-old Hugo protested. “I  _ never _ cheat!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do  _ too _ !”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Hermione said, “ _ I’m _ mowing the lawn. I don’t trust either of you with sharp blades.”


	85. Mud

There was mud on the stones again. 

“Damn kids not havin’ any care,” Filch muttered to himself as he stomped over with his mop and bucket. “An’ no one but old Filch to clean it, eh? What good is magic if you don’t-”

He cut himself off as he noticed another staring at the mud.

“Professor?” he asked. But Snape didn’t hear him. He was far away, in another time, when the mud was blood. Filch cleared his throat.

“I’ll just get this cleaned up, sir. Good as new.”

Snape blinked, flicked his wrist, and banished the mess.

“...Thank’ee, sir.”


	86. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rose/Daisy snuck up on me, but I love it *so* incredibly much. Can you imagine Petunia's reaction to her granddaughter falling for Snape's daughter?!

She sneered. For Circe’s sake, why had she agreed to this? This was absolutely not her scene. There wasn’t a Starbucks for miles. There wasn’t a  _ building _ for miles. There wasn’t a  _ bathroom _ for miles. There wasn’t-

“Isn’t this great?!” Rose exclaimed next to her. She inhaled deeply, reverently, her chest swelling with all sorts of dust and bugs and- Rose smiled at her as she exhaled. “I’m glad you came, Daisy.”

Her heart flopped in her chest and Daisy Dudley swallowed past the sudden butterflies. Right.  _ That _ was why she’d come on this godforsaken camping trip.

“Yeah, me too.”


	87. Nest

It was cozy down here, she thought. All snuggled up close together with the man she loved. Their legs were tangled together and she wiggled her fuzzy sock-covered toes in amusement. He turned a page in his book, resting his other hand in her hair. She sipped her tea, set it down to lean forward and poke the fire to make sparks fly. She leaned back and sighed happily.

“Knut for your thoughts?” Severus asked. Hermione chuckled.

“Just feeling as cozy and domestic as a rabbit.”

He lifted her hand to kiss above her ring. “I love you too, Eostre.”


	88. New

If pressed, Hermione would have described her feelings towards Professor Snape as, at best, distant. Indifferent. Unfeeling. She might have sniffed dismissively and wished him well, wherever he was.  _ She _ certainly didn’t know or care what the Professor was up to.

But if someone had asked about her feelings for  _ Severus _ … Well, those were  _ entirely _ of a different nature. They were warm- no,  _ hot _ . Burning. She would wax poetic about his hands and how they felt on her skin. About his face and the emotions that played under the surface.

But these feelings were new and hers alone… for now.


	89. Outdoors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long without some good angst, so... here you go! 
> 
> Tw: off-screen death, despair, apocalypse

The world was no longer safe. Not for the Magick, not for Muggles, not even for the most resilient of animals. The battles between the opposing sides had caused a chain reaction that was destroying the earth from the inside out.

Those who had died in the war had been lucky, the survivors agreed. They didn’t have to see how the world withered and greyed around them. How solid turned to liquid and liquid to gas. They didn’t have to watch their loved ones-

The survivors huddled together in caves, now just fellow defeated humans, and waited for the end.


	90. Pastel

“But Debbie… pastels?”  
Hermione cackled with delight and Severus raised an eyebrow. When his wife had said she wanted to watch her favorite movie, he hadn’t hesitated to agree. Hadn’t even asked what it was- it didn’t matter. He’d watch anything she wanted.  
“You’re quiet,” she said, reaching up to run loving fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch and kissed her palm.  
“I wouldn’t have chosen Addams Family Values as your favourite, is all. It doesn’t seem…”  
“High-brow enough?” she laughed. “How do you think I put up with the boys?”  
Severus snorted. “Don’t light any matches.”


	91. Peaceful

He drifted, the water in his ears and holding him in a gentle, warm embrace. His fingers lazily stroked the water as he floated, the currents moving him along easily. It was so peaceful here. He could breathe without pain. Could finally let himself relax. If he could eat and sleep in this state of bliss, he would never leave. He let his eyes slide closed-

So he didn’t see the beach ball until it landed square in his crotch. He reared up in shock, sputtered, flailed, went under, and resurfaced wet as a drowned rat.

“Sorry, Dad!” Hugo shouted.


	92. Petals

Hermione opened the door with a sigh. It had been  _ the worst  _ day and she couldn’t wait to fall into bed. Forget dinner. Forget showering. Forget…

The petals on the floor?

A thin line of scattered petals led from the front door to the back hallway, which led to her bedroom. She followed it slowly, carefully. Severus was on a mission. No one should have been able-

A note was propped on her bed, along with a steaming meal and glass of wine.

“Hello, beautiful. Eat, drink, and sleep. I know how you get sometimes. Love and miss you, Severus.”


	93. Picnic

“You ever have those words that no matter how many times you see them, they just seem wrong?” Hermione asked suddenly. Severus looked up from his notes with a quirked eyebrow.

“For example?” he asked.

She waved a hand through the air and the words appeared as she said them.

“Ecumenically. Waffle. Riffle. Picnic. Dungarees. Wednesday.”

He sat up to give the words his full attention. 

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about it before, but you’re right. I suppose I won’t wear my ecumenical dungarees while I riffle through the picnic basket for waffles on Wednesday.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughed.


	94. Play

“I am the Princess of the Forest and you shall bow to my whims!” Rose hollered. She raised a scepter made of glued leaves and twigs and waved it dramatically, almost catching a child behind her in the ear. He managed to dodge out of the way, despite being nearly immobilized in his tree costume, but Rose continued with her lines with all the bravado of a Shakespearean actor delivering a soliloquy.

“This is horrid,” Severus whispered into Hermione’s ear. She nodded, but sniffed anyway, dabbing her wet eyes.

“Elementary plays always are,” she whispered back. “But smile anyway, dearest.”


	95. Pleasant

“Well, isn’t this… pleasant,” Jean Granger said into the tense silence with a tight smile. Across from the table, the guardians of a messy-haired, scrawny boy scowled at her. They held themselves apart from the group, as though afraid of something catching. The woman couldn’t seem to stop sniffing as thought the air was foul, and the man seemed close to an apoplectic fit.

“Thank you, Mrs. Granger,” another man said. If someone had asked her to describe a wizard, she would have pictured him. Long white beard, silly clothes. 

“Your children are magical so we’re here to explain… Hogwarts.”


	96. Pollen

It was a fine, beautiful spring morning. Flowers were in bloom on every tree and birds sang as they flew by. A light breeze played with branches on the window, not threatening or spooky as they would be in October, but rather a reminder that life was outside.

Yes, it was a beautiful day and Hermione couldn’t wait to get started. She’d never been to America in spring before and it was sure to be-

She flung the door open with a laugh and stopped cold.

Her beautiful little car was covered in something… yellow.

“Springtime,” her companion shrugged. “Sucks.”


	97. Puddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed the Lloyd family. They're a lot of fun to write. I mean, a Texan Wizarding family being friends with two of the greatest heroes in Wizarding England? It practically writes itself.

“April showers bring May flowers, and what do mayflowers bring?” Amy Lloyd sang as she hopped from puddle to puddle. The rain came down in buckets but both Amy and Rose had insisted it was prime puddle-hopping weather and were clad in ponchos and wellies. 

Apparently the song was a riddle since Amy looked at Rose expectantly. Rose in turn looked to her mother, who looked to Amy’s mother.

“Pilgrims, dear,” Barbara- call me Barbie- Lloyd said cheerfully. “The Mayflower was the ship that brought some of the first colonists to America.”

“Pilgrims?” she asked.

“Later,” Hermione laughed. “Lessons later.”


	98. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied Ron/Hermione

“Why do people hate rain?” Hermione mused. She sat in a bay window, smiling softly at the raindrops landing above her head and sliding down the glass. She indulged herself in a childhood game, choosing a raindrop and rooting it on as it raced other drops. Sometimes she won and sometimes she lost, but the result was the same. More rain fell and dripped to the thirsty plants below. She let out a happy sigh.

“I’m one of them,” Ron sneered behind her. He rubbed polish into his broom roughly, angrily. “Rubbish weather. Can’t fly in this shite. Bollocks.”

“...Oh.”


	99. Rainbow

She would deny it in later years, when she was dark and gloomy and teenage, but Rose’s first attempt at magic was when she was two. She loved sunlight and loved rain and  _ especially _ loved rainbows.

Hermione was in the kitchen but light kept flashing from the corner of her eye. She turned to see her daughter holding a tiny rainbow in her hands, laughing as the colors shifted. And as Hermione watched, Rose pointed a tiny little finger to the ceiling. The rainbow took off like a shot, sticking as though glued besides dozens of others.

“Bow!” Rose cheered.


	100. Raincoat

Hermione smiled as she stepped through the door. She shook her umbrella free of droplets before closing it and hanging it on its hook. She added her raincoat to the three that were already hanging, dripping rain onto the towel set below them. 

The house was quiet, almost reverently so. The only sound was Crookshanks’ bell as he padded over to her, stopping to stretch. He purred as she picked him up to carry him into the family room.

As she’d suspected, Severus and their children were sprawled on the couch sleeping. She slipped into her spot, and drifted off.


	101. Rebirth

She had dirt under her nails. Severus watched her as she looked at her nails, once a sign of her wealth and privilege. They’d been scrupulously clean, neat, and trimmed. Her pride and joy. Something she could look at and say, “See? I’m above this mess.”

But now they were broken, dirty, and surrounded by filthy skin. She’d been digging out potatoes today, and the roots of her labor piled high behind her.

She looked up, saw him watching, and smiled. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hermione said softly. Severus crossed their small cabin to claim her lips in silent appreciation.


	102. Refreshing

The lemonade was tart against her tongue as she lounged in the hammock. Beside her, Severus groaned. 

“I have never been so full,” he complained, rubbing a hand across his slightly distended belly. “But damn if these Americans can’t cook.”

Hermione snorted. “You’re picking up their idioms again.”

Severus smirked. “I am a man of culture.”

They snuggled, watching the sunset for several minutes before Hermione sighed.

“I suppose Texas isn’t so bad.”

Severus looked at her in mock surprise. “You? She who very nearly refused to come with me?”

“Do shut up, dear. And pass me some pecan pie.”


	103. Regenerate

“It’s never been done before,” Severus said with a snarl. “You cannot-”

“It works,” Hermione said calmly, “but I can’t get approval without test subjects, and no one is willing-”

“Of course not! Who would trust such a thing?” He sneered at the small bottle of cream she’d presented him. “Everyone knows cursed scars are impossible to heal. The skin cannot regener-”

Hermione lifted her sleeve quietly to show him smooth skin, with only the tiniest of dents where a foul word had once been carved. He gaped, asked permission, and rubbed shaking fingers across her cleared skin.

“I’m in.”


	104. Reinvention

When Hermione began to lose her sight, she tried not to worry. She’d watched Severus go through the same thing and the wizard optometrists had been able to reverse much of the damage. Severus still used reading glasses, but Hermione suspected it was more for aesthetic and to entice her than any actual need. So she didn’t worry when her vision started to blur.

She should have. Optometrists,  ophthalmologists, cursebreakers, and specialists of all kinds were stumped. She was cursed so thoroughly she was blind.

“I love you to the point of invention,” Severus said, and he began to work.


	105. Rejuvenate

“Revitalize your love life! Rejuvenate your inner self! Reinvent your entire life!!” the advertisement screamed at her. Hermione sneered. She didn’t have to be a genius- though she was- to understand that the product likely didn’t work and sought only to prey on the weak-minded and insecure. 

She sighed. She was nearing 50. She’d never had a long term relationship. She’d never had children, and shared her tiny flat with her cat. She had tea on Tuesdays with Minerva and otherwise spent her time reading and planning her lectures. But…?

She snorted and turned to enter the neighbouring bookstore instead.


	106. Relaxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most American joke I've ever written, but I regret nothing. :D

She was floating, drifting away on a cloud of primrose and jasmine. 

“Hugo!!!!” Rose screamed. “Get back here with my brush!!”

But Hermione didn’t hear. She didn’t hear her son teasing her daughter, nor did she hear the thumping of angry teenagers on the stairs. She  _ definitely  _ didn’t hear Rose mutter a word that Hermione certainly hadn’t taught her. No, she was floating in a tropical atoll. Dolphins chittered nearby.

Someone tapped at the door then opened it gently.

“May I join you?” Severus asked. “The children are-”

“Your problem right now, darling,” Hermione replied. “Calgon has taken me away.”


	107. Renewal

Tension was high as Hermione left her office. The Ministry was rarely quiet but tonight there was a hush over everything. Even the paper planes carrying memos fluttered almost silently. As she walked, people watched and whispered conversations ceased. She passed through the Auror office without stopping, and Ron and Harry fell into line behind her. Knights to her queen.

A cheer rose and was hushed almost immediately, its celebration premature and stunted. Hermione tried to smile but only managed a grimace. Severus caught her eye, nodded silently. He knew.

Hostilities had renewed between Muggles and Magic.

It was war.


	108. Reveal

The celebration and mourning still raged loudly in the castle when Hermione snuck away. As much as she would have liked to stay, too many people were happy. Too many were sad. And too many… well, too many people. She’d needed to get away and had volunteered to retrieve Snape’s body.

Except that it wasn’t there. There was blood all around- more blood than any one person should lose- but nothing else.

Something shifted behind her and she whirled, her wand at the ready.

The vampire was almost as startled as she was.

“P-Professor?”

“...Well. This is awkward,” Snape said.


	109. Romp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the SSHG!

The girls passed by him, giggling as they went. He heard a few comments on his size, both in stature and… well. He was hard pressed to neither respond, acting as though he was simply an English tourist, nor to look back at them. He wasn’t sure what exactly they were wearing- a romper?- but it made their legs look miles long and delectable.

Much like the woman rapturously staring at the entrance to the opera house. He felt a clutch in his chest. He would give her the world if she would just look at him-

“Professor?!”

“...Miss Granger.”


	110. Sapling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry about the unannounced hiatus. I realized my wordcount for 2020 was exactly 66,666 and it was so thematically perfect that I didn't dare upload anything else. But I'm back now. Best wishes to all of you for 2021. I hope it treats you well. 
> 
> Hugo Snape/OFC

He’d been called “sapling” since he was a baby. Literally. The nurse who washed him had made a comment about him being as long and skinny as a sapling, and somehow it stuck as a nickname. It haunted Hugo through school- all the way through university. Somehow Magick friends of his attended the same Muggle school and saw fit to introduce him to every eligible woman as “Sapling”.

But as he helped the woman who had fallen in front of him, he found himself introducing himself by the dreaded name.

She laughed.

“Not a sapling at all. You’re an  _ oak _ !”


	111. Scampering

She smelled them before she heard them, and Hermione instantly knew what Hugo’s plan was. She waited. She heard his helpless little giggles as he held a hand over the goat’s mouth to keep it from bleating. She could feel its scampering little hooves on the hardwood floors. And when it dropped pellets, she could almost taste rage in her throat.

“I sincerely hope that there isn’t a goat in my house, Hugo.” All movement on the other side of the sofa ceased. The goat let out a tiny “baaah!” 

“How did you know?!”

“I’m your mother. I know everything.”


	112. Scent

His lover was many wonderful and amazing things, and if she had a quirk or two, that only made her seem more unique and admirable. Severus knew how lucky of a man he was, and so he never questioned why she insisted on keeping one of his shirts. Every time he stayed the night, she would steal the shirt he wore, giving back the cleaned one she’d stolen his previous visit. He never asked why and she never offered an explanation.

And if she occasionally nuzzled into his chest hair, he simply considered that he’d always liked cats, especially know-it-alls. 


	113. Seedling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose Snape/unrequited(?)-Neville Longbottom

“Are you all right?” Professor Longbottom asked. Rose squeaked in surprise and took an involuntary step forward, nearly losing her footing entirely. But her Herbology Master caught her arms and steadied her. She tried desperately not to lean into his warm hands nor show any trace of the lust in her belly as she turned to look at him.

“Yes, sorry. My mind was… well.” They shared a chuckle.

“I know it can be hard to maintain concentration, but those seedlings respond to emotions. Do be careful.” He winked as he left.

Below her hand, a tiny red bud bloomed.


	114. Shower

Severus was already in the shower, Hermione realized as she stepped through the Floo, and grinned wickedly. It had been a long time since she’d had a chance to join her husband in the water, and with the day she’d just had, she was ready for a mood-raising romp.

She made her way up the stairs to the room where Severus sang quietly, removed her clothes, and whipped back the curtain.

Severus screamed, clutching the bottle of shampoo to his chest.

Hermione had to sit down and clutch her sides, Severus’ angry words drowned out by her peals of laughter.


	115. Sky Blue

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Sky blue,” Severus repeated, twirling one of her curls around his finger. “The color of my father’s eyes.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Severus pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Don’t you think they’d look stunning on our child?”

She gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss her again, sweeping his tongue in to duel with hers. She groaned but pulled away to look him straight in the eyes.

“You’re absolutely sure? No second thoughts? I don’t want to pressure you.”

“I am.”

She grinned, pushed him down.

“Well, then. Let’s.”


	116. Smell of Cut Grass

She worried every now and then that her amortentia had smelled of cut grass. It wasn’t a scent she particularly enjoyed. One she’d always associated with Quidditch. She fought back a shudder every time she thought that maybe… maybe Severus wasn’t hers.

But then one day when she greeted him after work, she caught the scent of freshly cut grass. He looked up from his cauldron with a smile.

“Anderson asked me to research hayfever cures. Since he’s allergic to grass, I thought I’d-”

He cut off with an “oof!” as she threw herself into his arms with exuberant kisses.


	117. Splendor

There was splendor everywhere here. In the beautiful library they’d toured that afternoon. In every room of the grand house, in fact. And in the people who lived there. Hermione felt very small and frumpy around the beautiful people of Milan, distant relatives of Severus’. They did their best to make her feel comfortable, even showing her to the observatory where she could stare at the splendor of space for hours.

But her favorite place- in the house, in Milan, in the entire world even!- was right here. Falling into the splendor and wonder and awe of her husband’s eyes.


	118. Spring

The spring at her back wouldn’t stop squeaking. She wasn’t even moving! But that damn spring would creak and moan and squawk as though offended she was sitting on it. She sneered in its general direction under her arse. She wasn’t particularly thrilled to be sitting on it either, but needs must. She’d sold her parents’ house more quickly than she had expected but her new home still needed repairs before she could move in. 

So she was sitting in a downtrodden hotel in the depths of Muggle London with everything she owned in the world.

And that damn spring.


	119. Spring Ahead

The clock in the hallway hadn’t worked for ages. His mother had once told him that it had stopped the day she’d married his father and realized she would never know love, and that it wouldn’t run again until there was love in the house.

Poppycock, he thought then and now. And he’d put it from his mind.

Until the night he’d invited Hermione over, knowing he wasn’t going to let her go. She held his heart in her hands, and he was happy to let her.

And as he whispered words of love to her, the clocked chimed rapturously.


	120. Spring Break

“Spring break” meant many things to many people. Long walks on the beach for Parvati and Lavender. More time for practice for Harry, Ron, and Ginny- with plenty of time leftover for bar hopping. Luna wouldn’t stop talking about the various mythical animals the region was known for, even as Neville dragged her away, just as excited to search for mysterious plants.

Hermione watched them fondly as they broke off into groups and their own activities. As soon as they were out of sight, she threw open the doors of Hogwarts Library.

“Alone at last,” she cackled. “Where to start?”


	121. Spring Cleaning

Spring cleaning, Hermione mused, was very different in the past. Well, her present but technically it was the past? She shook her head.

“Woolgathering again?” Severus asked with a smirk. She sneered at him. 

“Help me with this,” she snarled, gesturing to the table. She didn’t need help, of course, but if he insisted on being in her way, she was going to use him. 

He lifted the table easily, crossing to the doorway where he stopped.

“Spring cleaning is very different in the fourteenth century, isn’t it?”

“It’s your fault we’re here, Snape!”

He smiled without amusement.

“I know.”


	122. Spring Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arguably a continuation from yesterday, should you like to read it that way. :)

She watched the newborn lambs bounce around their enclosure with the exuberance of the very young. Their mothers watched indulgently, content to chew their cud in the shade. The piglets squealed nearby as they wallowed. Even the cow’s mooing seemed happier. Everyone was in a fine mood, except for her.

She lowered her head to her knees, covered in well-worn homespun cloth, and tried not to cry.

Severus sat down next to her but she tried not to notice him. He was sure to yell at her for-

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It  _ is _ my fault. If I’d-”

“Don’t. Please.”


	123. Spring Fling

“I need a  _ what _ ?” Hermione screeched. Patrons around them stared and conversation ceased. Hermione gave a small embarrassed smile at them, but Ginny seemed to feel no such shame.

“A fling,” she repeated. “Someone to clean your pipes-”

“Merlin, Ginny,” Hermione groaned with a helpless laugh.

“-just long enough for you to get bored, then you toss them over. It’s foolproof for getting over a heartache.”

“I don’t need a fling to get over your brother, believe me.”

“No?” Ginny asked with a smirk. “Good. Because Professor Snape just walked in and Merlin if he doesn’t look fine.”

“...Shut up.”


	124. Sprout

Sprout’s little seedlings were coming along wonderfully. Longbottom showed great promise; she’d have to cultivate him a little more, but he was the forerunner for her eventual replacement. He’d been so damaged before the war, his petals singed and wilted, but… well, he was still nervous and fretful, but he’d grown. His roots were strong and the rest of him would follow. She’d have to find him a strong companion to help him grow.

The Granger girl? No, no. She was too strong; she’d break him. The same with Weasley.

Ah, but Lovegood. Flighty to lift him, but strong. Perfect.


	125. Sunlight

“I told you,” Severus sneered from his face-down position. “I bloody  _ told _ you, but  _ noooooo _ . You always know best. ‘You need  _ sun _ , Severus! Look at you, wasting away in these drafty old dungeons! Come out with me into the sunlight!’”

He winced. “Honestly. How could you possibly think that this skin should see the light of day? Truly, your brain may be brilliant but you lack the common sense of a peanut. You-”

“Are you quite done?” Hermione asked with a chuckle as she spread aloe on Severus’ sunburnt back.

“Almost."

“Carry on, then. Peanut’s sense.”

“Thanks. And another thing-!"


	126. Sweet

Sweet honeysuckle scented the warm spring air, carried aloft on a breeze through the open windows. White sheets fluttered on the drying line. Children laughed in the garden. Somewhere, a dog barked happily.

A woman hummed as she worked sugar and butter together, swiping a finger through it to test it. She licked her finger clean with a laugh.

A man and a boy were engaged in an intense game of checkers. The man moved one piece forward, and the boy responded by jumping it and three others. They cheered together.

Hermione smiled at her future in the crystal ball.


	127. Tulip

The Keukenhof Tulip Gardens were abuzz with excited chatter. People gathered in little clumps to take pictures of the acres of tulips, waving prettily in the spring wind. Hermione spared them a smile as she and Severus followed behind Luna and Neville. She’d never seen Neville so excited before, even when he’d found the mystical Creeping Lotus in the depths of Egypt.

But apparently the Demon's Tulip was rarer and only bloomed once every millennium. Severus pressed her faster, as excited as Neville. The potions he could brew with it were apparently amazing.

She was just happy they were happy.


	128. Verdant

The countryside of Ireland could only be described as “verdant”. Severus almost boggled at the colors around him. He hadn’t realized there were so many shades of green in the world. It almost hurt to look at.

And he was free to look at them as long as he wished.

He was free.

Free from Dumbledore. Free from Voldemort. Free from any ties to the Wizarding World at all. Nothing and no one to hold him back or tell him what to do. He could do anything. Go anywhere! Or do nothing at all.

But first, he’d read a book.


	129. Vernal Equinox

Rose stared intently. It would work this time, she knew it. Beside her, Hugo barely dared to breathe. He crossed his fingers silently.

Rose slowly pulled her hands back from the egg. One second, two… She sucked in an excited breath-

The egg fell over and the children groaned in disappointment.

“Again!” Hugo cried. Rose nodded with determination and lifted the egg on its end again. They resumed their concentration, certain that this time they’d balance the egg.

Hermione sipped her tea quietly. She  _ may _ have told them the myth about eggs and equinoxes, but really, who could blame her?


	130. Vibrant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this references the "Chinari". They're an alien race that will be featuring in a longfic I'm working on slowly. I don't expect to start uploading it until 2022. But hey, if you're curious, I'm *super* happy to talk about them in the comments!

She danced, her skirts swirling around her ankles and her bangles flashing as brightly as her smile. Instruments of all kinds- winds, strings, and percussion- played gaily around her as she whirled through the moves she knew as instinctively as her name. She’d never felt so free, so alive and full of joy.

He watched her, as dark as she was bright. The contrast pulled at her heart and soul. 

Severus was hers as surely as she was his, but he’d refused to accept his Chinari half, much less hers. 

She held her hands out.

He melted into the shadows.


	131. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last but not least, a dig at my state. 
> 
> Thank you all for staying with me through this journey. I had a fantastic time writing these drabbles, and I hope you had fun reading them!
> 
> Love you all. ❤

The world was covered in white, with more white falling from white clouds. Wind swirled through them all, lifting white into the air to settle elsewhere.

Hermione grumbled and pulled the black blanket tighter around her. She adjusted the one over her head to make sure that none of the offending whiteness could be seen. 

“Are you planning on coming out again this year?” Severus asked with no small amount of amusement.

“When it’s as warm out there as it is in here,” she grumbled. “300 days of sun, my arse.”

“Sun, yes. Warmth, no. Colorado isn’t exactly tropical, vixen.”


End file.
